Thresh's Story
by DistrictTobias
Summary: Thresh enters the arena as any other tribute would: with the intention to survive. It won't be easy for him though, as Gamemaker traps and dangers lurk everywhere around him. Along the way, he meets an unlikely ally.
1. The Games have begun

**(A/N) Here's my vision of what went on during Thresh's time in the Arena. This is the first part, where he enters the Games and makes his first kill. I hope you all enjoy! There are some interesting things to come, so, stick with me. :)**

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I nod to my stylist. He gives me a brisk hug and a hearty slap on the back. I smile, if there is something I respect him for it's his non-Capitol attitude to everything. We've spent many a night talking about previous Games, developing strategies to try and win without killing many other tributes. I have never been a violent person. I am tall and strong but bloodshed is not something I crave; unlike many of the other people I am competing with.

Marvel and Glimmer, the District One tributes. Often do I see them eyeing up other tributes, most likely fantasizing about ways to kill them. Ways to slowly draw the life from their 'enemies'. Haha. The word enemies is laughable. None of us know eachother well enough to be enemies, and yet we are forced to murder one another - in the most brutal, bloodiest ways we can.

Then there is Cato, the District Two male. Probably the one tribute I fear out of all others. Not only is his body built for combat, his mind is solely focused on killing in the most quick and vicious yet entertaining ways he can. His District partner, Clove, is quiet. Insanely quiet. I see her smirk often; a harsh smirk, seemingly full of evil. Her training score was high though, and from what I've seen, you wouldn't want to be in her sights when she is armed with throwing knives. Those targets have been, literally, ripped to shreds.

Only a few other tributes seem to pose a threat: the District Twelve boy seems incredibly strong, the District Five girl has the wits of a fox and the District Eight male seems to posess some physical strength, but apart from that I feel my odds are pretty good. A deep cough startles my thoughts and I see my stylist ushering me towards a glass cylinder, sitting in wait, ready to carry me away into arena. In only minutes, several tributes will be lying on the floor. Their eyes will be drained of life, unmoving. Their heart will of stopped beating and run cold. Their families will be at home, bitter tears rolling down their cheeks, all hope sapped from them in an instant.

I take steps towards the cylinder. My footsteps echo around the room, sending chills down my spine. I walk into the tube and watch the door slide closed, locking me in, with no way out but the arena above me. The glass in front of my blurs my vision, but for an instant I swear I can see a single tear, glinting in the bright light, dripping down my stylists face, dampening his silky ashen skin. Then; darkness. The tube slowly rises up, bringing me closer and closer to where I may spend my last days.

Suddenly, my vision goes from the darkest black to the brightest white, which slowly fades to a yellow and then into several different colours, revealing the arena around me. I realize I'm staring into the sky which is made from the deepest sea blue colour. Trees that stretch into the sky surround me, but one particular portion of the arena catches my eye: a field which grass reaching up to my shoulders. I also spot grain in amongst the grass, which could easily feed me. Of course to eat raw grain you need to at least soak it overnight in water, and water may be something I can't spare; or even find in the first place.

I swivel my head around to catch a glimpse of the tributes. The Careers nod to eachother, confident in their abilities. I don't even notice the countdown beginning until I hear "12, 11, 10...". I only have 10 more seconds to scout out supplies near the gleaming golden Cornucopia. It almost blinds my eyes; the sun reflecting off of it is ridiculously bright. Something else shines in the distance, and I notice it is a curved sword; a machete. Near it lie backpacks, water canteens and other things neccesary for survival.

"3, 2, 1..." The gong bellows and I find my legs kick into action before I even realize. I almost slip as I land off the podium but manage to keep my balance and head towards the machete I spotted just seconds before. Screams fill my ears; high pitched screams of terror. I jerk my head to the side and see a girl drop to the floor, crimson blood running from her body and staining the vivid green grass. I shake my head, push the thoughts out of my mind and put all the force in my body towards my legs.

I near the Cornucopia, but am stopped dead in my tracks as Cato, the one I feared from the start, sends his fist flying into my gut. I double back, coughing up some sort of spit and vomit mixture from my stomach. He draws a knife from his belt, and I know this is the end. As I close my eyes to accept it, I hear him curse and run away. My eyes quickly open to see him running with a knife in his toe, towards a boy. He whips the knife out of his foot as if it were no trouble and launches it towards the boy. I turn away and continue running, holding my stomach as I do.

I reach the machete and swoop down and grab it and the water canteen next to it in one quick movement. As I nearly lose my balance again, I hop forward and lunge towards a black backpack resting in a bed of grass. I sling it over my back, strap the canteen to my belt and run forwards with the machete in my right arm; my good arm. I turn away from the gleaming hunk of metal that is the Cornucopia and head towards my safe haven, the field of grain.

As I run, something slams into my leg. A sharp sensation jolts through my body, alerting my senses. Now is not the time for running; now is the time for fighting. I can picture my stylist, watching back at the Capitol, shaking his head. He wanted me to avoid confrontation at all costs. Killing is not the way, he preached. He would want me to injure them and run, leaving nature or indeed other blood hungry tributes to finish the job. A spear flying past my head ends my thoughts and causes me to duck back. The angry male in front of me retrieves his spear and stares at me. The District Eight male.

He swings his spear at me again, catching my ear. Blood trickles down, running into my mouth. A vile, metallic taste. Without thinking, I whip my machete towards him. I feel the blade slam into his skin; where exactly, I don't know. I hear it digging into his soft flesh, and what I can only assume to be a scream tries to exit his mouth but only results in a gargle and blood coming out of his mouth in a sticky clot. I draw my head upwards and pull my machete back. A fresh wound going from his right ear down to his neck is visible, with blood pouring from it. I look into his eyes.

They are a bright blue colour, and everything seems slow as all life slowly peels away from them. He drops to the floor, covered in blood, choking. I think of his family at home, watching the fight unravel, and seeing their son drop to the floor with his neck slit. And the worst thing is; it's my fault. These guilty feelings are going to have to wait as I spot little Clove in the periphery of my vision, trying to choose her next target. Her eyes dart from side to side, seeking something to slaughter. It wont be me.

My body is burning with aches and stiff muscles but I must run as fast as I can, towards the fields. My only hope of survival in these unforgiving Games.


	2. An unexpected ally

**(A/N) Welcome to Chapter 2! I needed to keep the story interesting, so this chapter has a pretty big twist. Again, it's only my interpretation of what went on during his Games, so don't judge me for adding new ideas into the story. Anyway, please review, and enjoy!**

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I arc my head backwards, checking the Cornucopia. Tributes are still fighting, screaming, trying their best to survive at all costs. I see a small, curly haired boy emerge from the Cornucopia, grasping a large yellow rucksack. I can only assume it bears a tent and some other vital items and I envy him for it. A weak little boy gets a tent pack whereas I barely escaped with a sword? I shake my head. Suddenly, Cato appears in my vision, sword in hand, stood directly in front of the boy.

I'm far enough away that I can't quite make out what's happening, but the sun shines onto the sword, causing it to glint, illuminating my vision for a split second. In that second, I see blood jet out of the small boy, and the yellow rucksack drop to the ground, soon to be grabbed by Cato who regroups with his vicious companions. I realize I've been lost in my thoughts once again and continue sprinting.

I'm nearing the wheat field and every part of my body is telling me to stop. My leg is still fresh with pain; my constant sprinting hasn't helped that matter. However, I keep running, as the field is only about 100ft in front of me. I'm only about 5ft away when I kick my legs up and dive straight into it, landing on a comfy bed of grass. I quickly look back at the Cornucopia; the bloodbath seems to have ended. The Careers will soon be hunting, and I will not be killed. Not today.

I stand on my feet, testing the ground. Who knows what could be in here; quicksand (or quickmud), gamemaker traps, mutts, I have no idea. The ground seems stable enough for me to walk on and I draw my machete. The blade is still dripping with blood, so I rip some grass from the ground and clean it as I push through the thick reeds. The grass is way too high and strong for me to simply push through, and so I decide to start hacking through it with my machete.

Several hours of slashing leads me to a clearing. The sun is now lowering in the sky, but it has been intense for the past hour and sweat rolls down my skin. Both of my arms ache; I have been switching use of my machete between each hand, and knowing I may soon be able to stop sends a wave of relief through me. I cough, a deep, raspy cough. I try to swallow but my throat crackles, from what I can only assume to be dehydration.

The clearing I have found seems strange. It's a fairy large circle where the grass has not grown more than a few centimetres. I spot a small stream in the corner of my eye, which I walk towards. I am not stupid, however. I've seen it before: tributes finding water and then dying shortly after because it is poisonous. Unfortunately, it seems like I have no choice. I take a small sip. The crystal clear liquid runs down my throat, wetting it.

Suddenly, my right arm jerks to the side. Then my left leg does. I ignore it and take a larger gulp of the water, which satisfies my throat temporarily and leaves me refreshed. The feeling does not last as my back suddenly stiffens and my vision blurs. Green and purple spots appear in my eyes, and I want to let go. To forget about everything and sleep. And I do.

It takes a great deal of effort to force my eyes open. When I finally manage to, I look at my surroundings. The sun is no longer in the sky, it has been replaced by the moon. I am still in the clearing, but the stream is further away from me. Movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention and I squint to try and make out what, or who, it is. I pick up a hint of red hair, posessed only by one tribute: the District Five girl.

She hovers over the stream with a small basket which seems to have been woven out of straw, grass and other materials. She fills the basket with water and takes something from her pocket. She unscrews the lid and lets a few drops of whatever it is to fall into the basket. Finally, she twists the baskets 'lid' and wraps some straw around it for securitybefore slipping it into her backpack.

That's when I notice she starts walking towards me, swiftly and quietly. She isn't afraid of approaching me; she must think I am still asleep. She must have been watching me from a distance, figured that the water knocks you out, waited until I was out cold on the floor, and then purified it with something I assume she found at the bloodbath. How clever she is; possibly the smartest of us all.

I snap my eyes shut, and calm my breathing down. I have to act. I feel her finger slowly poke into my shoulder; testing for life. That's when I whip my eyes open, grab her wrist and throw her onto the floor. I do not plan to kill her, but I know I easily could without my sword anyway. As a sign of my peace, I throw my machete to the side and look directly at her. Her bottom lip quivers, and she lets out a sob.

"I am not going to kill you, Redhair. Not unless you try something." I tense my grip around her wrist, showing her I am not afraid to inflict harm on her. Showing her I am not weak; although she can probably tell that already. I hear her gasp.

"You... are... crushing... my lungs...!" she says breathlessly. I stand up – still holding onto her wrist – and yank her up with me. There is a small moment of silence, before she smiles.

"Allies?" she coos, her voice kind and smooth. She is very clever, and it would definitely improve my odds of winning. But all I can expect is a knife in the back the moment I turn away. I can not let my guard down.

"I do not trust you, Redhair," I say firmly, demanding authority. "You will not lead me into false security." She shakes her head, and I feel a bead of sweat roll off of her wrist, onto my fingers.

"I don't expect you to, Thresh. You think I will betray you when the first opportunity shows itself. I will not." Her voice is steady, but there is an underlying tone of nervousness; of fear. I nod and release her wrist, but clench my fists into a tight ball.

"Thank you," she whispers. "It's past midnight, you know. We should take turns sleeping." I let out a small laugh. Her eyes glisten in the moonlight.

"If you want, I'll sleep first. You will have every opportunity to betray me; if you want. I trust you," she says. "The name is Ember, by the way. Ember Tatnum." She turns around, and for the next few minutes she carefully prepares a bed of grass for herself to sleep on. She motions me towards a small tree-stump I can sit on to keep watch.

The Capitol anthem disturbs me and several faces appear in the sky, but it skips right past District 1 and 2, meaning the Careers are still alive. I turn away to my new ally. Who would of thought I, Thresh, cold and unforgiving, would have befriended someone?


End file.
